Rhys steps forward. “If you have something to say, say it in front of me.”
Her eyebrows pull together. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“Yes, it does. She’s the woman I’m going to marry.”
Sorcha glares up at him. Although she’s a head shorter, she doesn’t look small as she straightens her back and narrows her eyes. He merely cocks an eyebrow and stands there.
Finally, she lets out a dramatic sigh. “Very well. I suppose you can stay.” She turns to me. “After your visit to my garden, I’ve given your…status quite a bit of thought. Selena asked me to invite you over because she planned to show me how flighty you were, that you’d crack under the slightest pressure. I thought she’d convince you of the merits of leaving my grandson. Instead…” She shakes her head, her mouth tight. “She only demonstrated that you aren’t the type to lose composure. You gave Rhys not just your trust, but you demolished her with logic and…a certain flair. That’s commendable.”
I blink a few times, trying to process. “Did you just…compliment me?”
“I did.”
“Wow.” My brain freezes. “Thank you?”
“‘Thank you’ is most often a statement, not a question.”
“Does this mean you won’t be asking me to marry one of the women from the list?” Rhys asks.
“It does.”
“Yes!”
I smile at his contagious enthusiasm. It’ll be good to have her off his back.
Sorcha lifts her head slightly, testing the air. “Is something burning? Shouldn’t somebody go check it?”
“Crap!” Rhys dashes to the yard. His brothers follow.
Sorcha and I linger behind.
“I wasn’t sure when I first saw you. You seemed like Marie.”
I pause for a second. “You mean Auric’s assistant? That Marie?”
Sorcha nods. “Yes. Pretty, does her job—minimally well—rather vapid. But you proved me wrong.” Her eyes go to the men outside. “Rhys needs a loyal woman. So much the better if she can cut down his enemies with poise and grace.”
“Thank you.”
“No need for thanks. You earned it.”
Is that a glimmer of approval in her eyes? Hard to tell. Still, she’s making an effort to be nice, and I want to get along for Rhys’s sake. “Will you join us for the barbecue?”
“No. Cedric and I have a luncheon date. I’ll show myself out. Go enjoy your time with him.” She starts to walk toward the door, then stops and turns around. “And Max?”
“Yes?”
“You may call me Grandmother.”
A kernel of warmth unfurls. Coming from her, this is probably the equivalent of a bear hug. “Thank you.Grandmother.”
She gives me a nod, then turns and leaves.
I head out to the yard. The patties are almost done, cheese melting. Rhys puts together a cheeseburger—the first one—with ketchup, tomato and pickles and hands it to me. “Here you go.” He smiles, his eyes on mine, as though my opinion is the most important.
“Thanks.” I give the burger a mock-serious inspection. “Looks good…smells good… Let’s see how it tastes.” I take a bite. The juicy, meaty flavor fills my mouth. I give him a thumbs-up and continue to chew. Then stop when the savory aftertaste hits.It’s the same flavor as Mom’s. I take another bite, just to make sure I didn’t imagine it.
How?
